


the roads that bind us

by blancnotes



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentioned Huang Ren Jun, Mentioned Lee Jeno, Mentioned Na Jaemin, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancnotes/pseuds/blancnotes
Summary: At this point, Chenle’s false bravado is only fueled by desperation, because the only thing worse than crushing on your best friend, is said best friend actually sharing the same feelings but never acting on it.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	the roads that bind us

**Author's Note:**

> I've spent a few days agonizing while writing this because obviously it’s very much juvenile and I can’t quite capture the nervousness of having a crush but uh, enjoy? And hopefully Chenle and Jisung being cute makes you smile even for a moment :DDD
> 
> But also!!! Feel free to follow me on twitter because I like to share some fic and au ideas whenever I feel like it hhh : [@_blancnotes](https://twitter.com/_blancnotes)

Jaemin blanches from where he's perched on the makeshift stage. There's a dubious trail of red liquid smeared on his white tuxedo, but it's somewhat salvaged by an oversized cream sash splattered in golden, glittering letters of _‘PROM KING’_ and a bouquet of red roses. 

The flowers were supposed to be for the senior dubbed as Prom Queen, only to have her erupting into this hissy fit a minute after her name was called. Apparently, her gown got ripped by a loose nail on the stairs and she refused to come up with a slitted fit. So now poor Na Jaemin is left to fend for the deafening applause of the whole student body, cheeks flushed underneath the gleam of a crappy spotlight.

He's been mouthing something to Chenle the whole time, making heavy, prolonged eye contact that would’ve made Chenle uncomfortable if it weren’t for the fact that he’s standing at the farthest back of the gym. And with a practically miniscule Jaemin in sight, he could only make out something vaguely along the lines of _“help me, you dumb bitch”._

In his defense, Jaemin’s regular behavior is randomly erupting into a primitive mating dance with matching arm flailing, very much like what he’s doing on stage at the moment. So Chenle only shrugs with little concern, jerking a thumb towards Student Council President Lee Jeno _(“you have to address that title with proper capitals, Lele”)_ and his lean frame sidling behind the curtains. His hand is wrapped around a crown and there's a mic in the other. And Jaemin must’ve put two and two together when he starts looking like he just stopped functioning.

Poor kid must be living the embodiment of his wet dreams right now. 

Chenle is very much proud.

He lets out his most obnoxiously loud wolf whistle, hands poised to clap until he feels someone grabbing his shoulders. And he’s just about ready to throw hands as he whips his head around, only to lock eyes with a grinning Jisung and _oh_.

His mother _did_ say that prom was one of the best days of high school, and it takes Chenle one look at Park Jisung to understand why.

“Hey! I came right on time!”

The boy only stands two inches over him but tonight, he looks bigger. Wolfish. A little too at home in his suit and slicked hair, like he was born for this very moment. Which is ironic because Chenle practically had to claw the boy out of his room earlier, only to be greeted by a sheepish Mrs. Park who insisted for him to go ahead alone. 

Honestly, trust Park Jisung to be fashionably late just because he couldn’t work out how much perfume he should use. Ever the nerd. 

Though Chenle can't find it in himself to get mad. His best friend cleans up _really,_ really well, enough to even forgive the illicit amount of Axe body spray that he religiously uses.

“I see your hair has finally decided to defy gravity,” he nods, lips pressed in a firm, thin line of weariness. “But you’re incredibly late. Jaemin-hyung already won prom king. And queen too, if you think about it.”

Jisung’s eyes immediately flicker to the stage, snickering at Jaemin openly gawking at Student Council President Lee Jeno before turning back to Chenle. The heat of his stare is unusually smoldering today. 

“Wanna get out of this hellhole?”

Chenle blinks. “Right now? But you just got here.”

“And I'm already bored to death.” He snorts. “Come on, let’s go have some real fun.”

Jisung likes to say that he’s right at that teenage phase where expending energy on anything remotely social is “annoying”, although Chenle would argue that it’s really more of his introverted nature on permanent low charge. Either way, he often sneaks out on a whim, sometimes in mid-conversation just because he had an urge to go ham on Kart Rider inside the bathroom, and Chenle has even resorted to physically dragging him back into the crowd multiple times before.

It’s not like he would prefer talking to strangers over PUBG sessions either. He’s just nice enough to appreciate whatever event his friends are putting up, and by appreciate, he means to stay rooted in a specific alcohol-free corner and display his face for a solid half hour before scramming.

Lord only knows how much Huang Renjun cried as Prom Committee Head this year. 

“Wait, uh,” panicking, Chenle grabs the first thing he can grasp, which just happened to be a loose button on Jisung’s coat. “Let’s stay. Five more minutes. We can dance for a while and then head home.”

As expected, Jisung perks up at any mention of dancing, already spinning on his heels with a death grip on Chenle’s wrist. And a single glance at the stage tells Chenle that Jaemin has long retreated down to the dance floor, seemingly content to be pressed beside Lee Jeno who is now sporting hilariously flushed cheeks.

_Holy crap._ Chenle is honestly proud. He feels very much like a doting mother with a child on the highest Olympic podium, but he can’t even savor his moment of pride when Jisung is incessantly tugging on the hem of his blazer.

“Chenle, oh my god, they’re playing Mark-hyung’s mixtape! Now we _really_ need to dance.” 

“Wait, Jisung, we might crash into someone—”

Chenle feels his breath hitching when they pad a little too close to the sea of bodies, feet dangerously on the edge of stepping on a nameless schoolmate. But the smile Jisung wears is too close to cocky as he slides and drags Chenle around with relative ease, successfully landing themselves in the middle of the dance floor without the risk of a single bump.

“Nope! Not on my watch!” and he laughs, the melody of his deep timbre ringing above the thump of the music.

It’s at times like these that Chenle is often left to watch in muted awe. Park Jisung has definitely come a long way from his shaggy bangs and glaring overbite. In fact, he’s grown into quite the chatterbox now, a spunky young man who fills his shirts better and stands taller with unapologetic eyes.

But sometimes, he can still find traces of the mousy kid he found crying at the skating rink, knees still scabbed from dancing and arms as wiry as ever. And he can even see it right now when Jisung presses closer, hands shaking when they hesitantly wrap around Chenle’s waist. 

“This is okay, right?”

Chenle takes in the timid curl of Jisung’s smile before he gently loops his arms around the boy’s neck. 

“Perfect. Definitely perfect.”

_“Oh._ Oh, okay.”

At this point, Chenle’s false bravado is only fueled by desperation, because the only thing worse than crushing on your best friend, is said best friend actually sharing the same feelings but never acting on it.

They're what Jisung prefers to dub as _“having fun”_. A some. An almost _._ Treading around the line of turning into something that both of them can't quite, can't ever be ready, to put a name to just yet. So they never move beyond, save for the sneaky hand holding and the occasional cheek kiss on Chenle’s part. And on the rare occasion they do end up touching, it’s often with guarded permission, hushed voices only laced with uncertainty and excruciating concern.

But tonight, the band kids are crooning to some romantic slow song and Jisung looks striking when he’s swaying under the lights. Captivating in all his elated grin and forehead exposed glory that Chenle can’t help but _want_.

“Let’s go on a trip after we graduate,” Jisung gushes suddenly. His eyes are dazed with an uncharacteristic grit as he stares, seemingly rapt. “Just you and me. No parents. Out of this city for _days_.”

Chenle finds himself pausing for a moment. He’s unsure if this behavior is induced by years of exposure to testosterone-fueled body spray, but it’s not entirely unwelcome, if he’s actually being honest. “Okay? And where would that be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Manarola, in Italy.”

“Italy? Of all places?”

“It’s a nice place. A little fish town along the Mediterranean coast.” Jisung’s fingers start tracing circles at the small of Chenle’s back. “I read it from my dad’s old travel journal. And I may or may not have spent a solid two hours googling pictures instead, but only because I’m always too lazy to read my dad’s chicken scratch, you know?”

Chenle hums, musing. “And what are we going to do once get there?”

“Okay, uh,” the sharp inhale Jisung takes is a telltale sign that Chenle will be witnessing a live acapella rap, “so I sort of made a list instead of sleeping last night. Drained my printer out of colored ink just because I felt like putting pictures on my own travel journal. And I _finally_ came to the conclusion that we could definitely rent one of those rainbow houses, like, at the top of the stone wall. Then we could go stuff ourselves with seafood ‘cause they’ve got a wet market around five minutes away. I’m taking fresh crabs this time, alright? Not the canned crap from the supermarket.” 

He sounds terribly serious despite the blatant mirth in his tone, eyes barely blinking when he pauses to spin a gleaming Chenle. “And we’ll drink the best wine there is and when we’re both wasted, we’ll dance under the street lamps. No traffic lights or cars to look out for. Just us throwing it back to Everybody’s Circulation because that’s perfectly legal and I’ve always dreamt of doing that.”

“Honestly, you got me at stone wall.” Chenle has half a mind to burst out laughing as he always does, but decidedly figures to indulge the boy this time, fingers brushing the imaginary dust on Jisung’s coat in a halfhearted attempt to look serious. “Do you think we could find a spot for bungee jumping? I’ve been wanting to throw you off a cliff for some time now.”

Jisung’s smile falls flat, a flash of betrayal splayed on his narrowed eyes. “Now I’m convinced you _really_ want me dead just to get my PS5.”

“Shit, how did you know that's _exactly_ what I planned?” Chenle exaggerates his gasp in mock surprise. 

Jisung throws him a nasty glare right after, but it treads closer to the line of childish rather than scathing, all playground antagonism since he steps right into Chenle’s space with a huff. But even then, Chenle could tell that he's a little stiff, poised a little too rigid despite the sway of his body. So he does both of them a favor by hooking his chin on Jisung's shoulder, sighing in content. 

“Yeah, but for real, though.” Chenle lulls his voice into a whisper. The proximity has him oddly meek and he’s not sure what to make of the realization that Jisung’s breath is fanning right at his ear. “Manarola sounds nice but it's just way too good to be true.” 

Jisung pulls away, just enough for the heady lights to catch his smile. Tender. Endearingly shy. “I could make it all real for you as long as you ask nicely.”

_“Woah._ Easy there, Park.” Chenle chuckles. It comes out more strained than intended, but his head is now reeling because did Jisung’s voice just get progressively _lower?_ “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. We both know you’re shit at that.”

He expects Jisung to laugh it off, to pull away with the car keys jingling in hand and another one of his social battery complaints in tow. But what Chenle most definitely does not expect, and his heart positively staggers at this, is for the boy’s grip to turn even tighter, fingers digging into his waist with an unforeseen strength.

Jisung’s smile is long gone when he stares down. The dazed look in his eyes are back, but this time, it glints with a darker intent that Chenle can't read.

“No. No more running away this time.”

And then he leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> i was supposed to insert haechan as a band singer, but i changed my mind last minute since this was just a chenji drabble i'm doing for fun kjsks lee donghyuck i'm so sorry, you will always be in my **heart**
> 
> anyway!! kudos and nice comments are very much appreciated, but above all, thank you for reading and stay safe ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶


End file.
